


Primus blessed

by taralynden



Series: Primus blessed [1]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Drama, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-06
Updated: 2012-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-29 02:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/314666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taralynden/pseuds/taralynden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes a pairing seems destined by Primus himself. But when destiny gets twisted, can love really save the world?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_Prologue - The Hub_

The increasing violence of the convulsions was a bad sign and they all knew it. The priest raised his voice in a fresh prayer; the herald looked for an indication of whether he should announce this latest development; the medic shook his head grimly. Around them, the structure groaned unnaturally as though the building would collapse. A collapse was not their main fear, however: there were worse possibilities.

In the centre of the room Prime lay chained to a table, writhing incessantly as he fought to control the terrible forces that had been unleashed when the Allspark had been merged with the Matrix. It was killing him and there was nothing to be done about that, but so long as he still lived there was hope that their reality would not simply dissolve and take them with it.

That hope was tenuous now.

The only one who could approach safely through the unpredictable energy flares was the consort; when anyone else came within a few steps of Prime, they were forced back by the swirling tendrils of power. But Prime was weakening and the flares of wild power were strengthening.

"We'd be better to kill him." the military advisor muttered. "End this suffering and destroy the Matrix entirely. Disperse the energy."

"Can we be sure we can destroy it at all?" the aerial commander pointed out. "I thought that that was why it has survived to be passed from Prime to Prime?"

"A new Prime might be stronger." the historian considered. "It has worked before."

"Who would be fool enough to take it _now_ , though?" the medic grunted.

"The Matrix has never been so powerful before." the priest agreed.

They fell silent as the current fit passed as abruptly as it had come, watching impassively as the consort gently rubbed warmed wax into the fresh scrapes on Prime's panels.

"What's his status?" the herald called, not daring to move any closer.

"He's doing the best he can." the consort told them, then added more softly. "He's so very tired."

The others remained silent. There was no arguing the point that Prime had already done more than could have been expected, given how badly all of this had gone. They had all been involved in the planning, and had all agreed to this course of action in spite of the risk. But they had been wrong about how much it would cost, and Prime was carrying the burden of that error.

Prime's body abruptly relaxed on the berth, falling still, and several of the onlookers wondered if he had finally given up. Beside him, the consort called his name softly and tenderly ran his hands over aching panels to soothe away the long groons of strain with gentle touches. It was an intimacy that should have demanded privacy, but the onlookers neither moved nor averted their gaze. There would be little privacy for Prime until this was resolved. And then they all focused their audials as Prime stirred to lucidity for only the third time since these fits had begun.

"It's... too much." Prime whispered, the sounds barely carrying across the room in spite of the carefully designed acoustics. "Can't co... control it. Burning me up."

"You can do it, Paximus." the consort told him confidently. "You've come this far, you can do this. You can save us. I believe in you."

Several of the others flinched. The consort's words rang true, but he notably did not attempt to claim that others had the same level of confidence. Prime seemed to realise that, raising one hand as far as the bindings would allow to reach out and caress his lover's face - the consort having obligingly leaned closer.

"Such faith." Prime sighed fondly, a brief burst of strength sustaining him. "I owe you so much."

"You owe me nothing." the consort denied, a faint trace of his old accent creeping into his careful emulation of Iaconian high-speech as emotion welled up. "I live for you."

Prime's hand fell away wearily.

"I know. But in this you... you cannot help me. I need... support of a... a different kind. I... I will bring them."

"Them?" the priest asked sharply. "Who? From where?"

"The ones who... can help... carry this burden..." Prime murmured, fading and starting to twitch.

"But who?" the herald insisted.

"Ratchet!" the consort groaned, clasping Prime's limp hand tightly. "The pain! I'm losing him!"

"Ask him who, Jazz!" the priest demanded. "We must know!"

"There's nothing I can do." the medic shook his head. "Nothing."

"Pax?" the consort's words could barely be heard through the murmur of other voices and the sound of Prime once again shifting restlessly against his bindings. "Hold on. You can do this. Don't give up."

"We have to kill him."

"Does he mean he's chosen a successor?"

"He said 'them'. What does that mean?"

"Pax, please. Stay with me." Jazz begged. "Please. Please don't leave me. Paximus? Pax?"

There was a flash of light, this one much brighter than those that had come before, and the building screamed as the foundations threatened to tear loose. Somewhere under the chaos and the shouting and Prime's own cries of pain, the consort could be heard crying the forbidden name, the name that Prime had been known by before he accepted the Matrix, the name it was no longer permissible to speak.

"Prowl!"


	2. First calling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please pay attention to the segment headings in italics or you might get a bit confused over the next few chapters :)

Prowl stared unhappily into the repair bay, frustrated to find it empty of the crotchety old medic. Short of missions and other various crises Ratchet barely left the room he was still trying to convert into a functional clinic. Today though, when Prowl was actually looking for him, he was not here.

Usually he avoided going to Ratchet unless he had no other choice. Most things he could repair himself, and these days the medic was even more irritable and volatile since much of his knowledge had been rendered largely obsolete by Sari's key. At the moment, though, he was struggling with something that he could not fix, and it was something he was certainly not going to discuss with the little organic that had taken centre-stage in their lives on this planet.

It had come on suddenly while he was meditating. Starting as a mild irritation, it had quickly built to the point where he feared he would die on the spot without even getting a warning out. But then it had subsided again almost entirely just as swiftly as it had come.

Stunned, he had initially believed he had been shot with something and had held perfectly still while he ran every scan and diagnostic he had in his programming to check both for intruders and for internal damage. Everything came up clear. He had been about ready to dismiss it as some unexplained but harmless phenomenon when it happened again. It happened a third time before he realised that there was a pattern to the attacks and that the pain was coming from his spark.

Perhaps he should have summoned help to himself, called out to the others for assistance. But that was not his way. Besides, he did not want to be the centre of attention. It would be sufficiently mortifying to discuss this with Ratchet who, in spite of his gruffness, was still a professional. No doubt he would have to expose his spark to the medic for a proper diagnosis and he had no intention whatsoever of doing that with an audience: in all his life, besides a couple of medics the only mech to ever see his spark had been Jazz.

He twitched a little, feeling warmth ripple through him just at the thought of Jazz's touch, and though he knew it was foolish to believe it just the thought of the other ninja seemed to soothe the ache in his spark. Very foolish. He really was getting sentimental, it seemed.

Shaking his head, he headed through to the main room. If nothing else, one of the others should be able to tell him where Ratchet was.

As he approached he could hear Ratchet's voice, but also Optimus. He paused, frowning. Optimus was too nosy - he would want to be involved. Perhaps this could wait? Turning to head back to his room, he nearly cried out in shock when he found someone directly behind him. Nearly. It would have been embarrassing, particularly given who it was.

"Hey there Prowler. Whatcha doin'?"

"What are you doing here?"

Jazz smirked.

"Got a joor or so off an' wondered if ya wanted t'go for a drive."

A drive out to somewhere secluded, no doubt, where they could continue to explore their newly intimate relationship. Jazz seemed to have made it a personal mission to broaden Prowl's experience as much as possible in the arts of interfacing and was approaching the self-appointed task with great gusto at every opportunity. Not that Prowl minded in the least, but it was getting difficult to keep their trysts private with Bumblebee and Bulkhead and Sari trying to spy on them all the time.

"I would like to," he began cautiously, wondering suddenly if the pain he was experiencing was somehow related to Jazz's last experiment.

It had felt glorious at the time, but it was risky to do anything with one's spark exposed and Jazz had been touching his spark chamber with his fingertips. Perhaps some damage had been done? But if so, why had it taken so long to manifest?

In any case, he still had to talk to Ratchet, and he did not want Jazz around while he did it. He was wondering how he could divert the other ninja's attention when Bumblebee resolved that issue for him, clattering around the corner with Bulkhead close behind.

"Prime! Prime! We didn't do anything, I swear! I mean, we weren't even touching it or anything, so whatever it is isn't our fault!"

The commotion drew Ratchet and Optimus out into the hallway.

"What isn't your fault?" the medic demanded grumpily, then glared at Jazz. "And what are _you_ doing here?"

"Oh, hey, yeah!" Bumblebee paused.

"Never mind that now, what about _this_!" Sari demanded.

Bulkhead held her up and they all saw how the key was glowing and twitching of its own volition.

"It just started going really crazy all of a sudden." Sari complained. "It's like it's overloading or something."

The others began to speculate, but Prowl felt the pain beginning to return and was distracted. Caught in the middle of the group there was no way to flee, so he turned to the medic.

"Ratchet..."

No-one heard him. It was getting bad now, too, his gears beginning to lock with the pain and his systems freezing.

"Hey Prowler." Jazz gave him an odd look. "You okay?"

He could not answer. The pain... oh the pain!... and once again he collapsed.

* * *

 _The Hub_

Jazz hated leaving Prime's side, but occasionally it was necessary. He still needed to fuel and charge himself, and since any energy source within range of the Matrix was now immediately absorbed he had to go elsewhere to do both.

He kept his gaze on the road as he drove out to the secondary base, not wanting to see how much more damage had been done to the surroundings. Paximus was doing an incredible job of restraining the vast powers that had been thrust upon him, but every time he faltered Cybertron suffered. Buildings collapsed, satellites fell, mecha died. And every time he returned to the Prime's chamber after learning a new statistic about the devastation, he felt Paximus flinch as the new data transferred to him. He could not bear that any longer, so he had told his friends not to tell him anything more. So long as he was ignorant, he could save his lover from just a tiny piece of additional pain.

No-one made any attempt to delay him as he drove, clearing the way for him and watching him for signs of what was happening. He wondered what they saw in his silent treks back and forth. What would they think if they knew what he was doing with the fuel he consumed, with the energy he gained when he rested? There were words for what Prime was doing to him, derogatory terms that made him cringe to even think of them and he did not think he could bear to hear them spoken aloud. Did they know how his energy was being leeched through the bond? Did they understand that he was giving it voluntarily?

Reaching the base, he transformed tiredly and stumbled inside. His friends were there to catch him, to ease him down onto the berth and wrap him in warming blankets and press wholesome mid-grade energon into his hands. Unlike the many times earlier, though, a couple of them began buffing his finish.

If he was not so drained he would have pulled away in horror - such an act was usually only done by a lover. The only time friends would collaborate on such a thing was either before a bonding ceremony, or before a mech was to be interred. Right now, the most energy he could muster permitted him only to raise his gaze to the mech in front of him.

"Why?"

Mirage leaned forward.

"The word is that Paximus is failing. Is it true?"

He offlined his optics, trying to think.

"He's doin' his best."

"We know that, but if he deactivates without bringing the Matrix under control we could lose everything."

Jazz shivered. Losing Prowl was the same as losing everything to him.

The sad reality was that from the moment a dying Optimus had thrust the overcharged Matrix into Prowl's unready hands, the mech he had known and loved had been already been lost. Paximus was a Prime, with the knowledge of Primes past and a depth of compassion and sense of ready self-sacrifice that was alien to Prowl's own nature.

Not that Prowl had not been compassionate or that he had not understood the need for sacrifice, but this was different. He responded to situations in ways that Prowl never would have, he commanded in ways that Prowl had never attempted to. And while the bond still held them together, he had barely even acknowledged his mate in those first chaotic days.

"He's still fightin' for us." he said after a moment. "Don't give up on him so quick."

"But can he do this?" Mirage persisted. "He was never supposed to be the next Prime, he wasn't prepared for it. Everyone knows it was supposed to be Ultra Magnus. Perhaps...?"

Jazz turned off his audials, unwilling to listen.

He had gone through a phase of bitterness towards the commander who had been absent at the critical moment, forcing Optimus to select a different successor, but had now come out into acceptance. Prowl could have refused the task and simply carried the Matrix to Magnus, and many still believed that that was what he should have done. But that was not what Optimus had asked of him, and with the Matrix so unstable it would likely have been even more devastating than the damage done now. The Hub would certainly have been destroyed, and likely many of their satellites too.

Prowl had bravely accepted a challenge that very few others would have had the courage for. He had not flinched from the duty put upon him, though he was unsuited for it. He was not built for this, was not programmed for it, was not trained for it, but he accepted it. And in the end even the high councillors had agreed that he had done far more than they would have believed possible of him, though they had still fled to the outer reaches of the galaxy in fear of the explosion if he failed.

So little faith everyone had in him, and that was the one thing Jazz could give him now. His faith. Prowl had never been particularly devout in his religious observance, had struggled with some of the concepts given his logical programming base. Now he was overwhelmed by forces that his logic could not handle, and he had to accept them. Worse, he had to accept them in the face of overwhelming doubt from the mechs who should have been his support, who were there to help the Prime just as he had been not so very long before and who had been his friends and colleagues. Paximus had not had time to select his own advisors and had retained those Optimus had chosen, and they had failed to carry out their basic duty - to assist their Prime.

Every time he was compelled to leave to re-energise, Jazz feared the damage his absence did. As Paximus weakened it grew worse, and he began to wonder now whether he should have left this time at all. Feeling a faint but insistent tug through the bond, Jazz decided that perhaps he should not have.

"I must go back."

"You haven't had more than a quarter of your charge!" Hoist complained, outraged.

"I must go back. He needs me."

"Jazz, he's killing you." Mirage argued. "You can't keep doing this."

"He needs me. I won't fail him now."


	3. Second calling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The section headings in italics will tell you which 'verse you're in.

_Elsewhere, second calling - 2007 movie  
_

Optimus waited patiently in his alt form and watched as Will Lennox made his way across the park towards him.

A significant amount of time had passed in terms of the normal human life span, but the destruction of the Allspark in Mission City had affected the residents in ways no-one had anticipated at the time: ninety-two of this world's solar cycles on, Will barely looked different to how he had looked when they first met, even though his grandchildren now had grandchildren. The result had been mistrust from others of their own species to the point where they had been effectively shunned from mainstream human society.

"How is Sam?" he asked as the man settled in his cab, deciding to skip over the usual preliminaries.

Will shook his head grimly.

"Not good. The pain's hitting all of us, but Sam's got it worst. Any ideas yet what it might be?"

"No." Optimus admitted heavily. "Our scientists are not even convinced that it is related to the Allspark's influence. It has never caused any harm to us, and they continue to make the point that it is a source of life and so would not be likely to do harm to others either."

"Then how do they explain _every_ blasted one of us originals suffering with it?" Will asked, clenching his fists in a visible sign of frustration.

"They do not, particularly since this latest complication."

Will nodded, calming.

"Prowl. Yeah, Ironhide told me he's got similar symptoms. How is he?"

Optimus sighed.

"Much the same as Sam, though in Prowl we can isolate the source of the pain definitively as being his spark."

"His spark? Isn't that what comes from the Allspark in the first place?"

"Yes, but it still makes very little sense. Prowl only arrived here a few of your months ago. If any of us were to be affected by the Allspark's destruction it should be me and Ratchet and Ironhide and Bumblebee."

"And Jazz?" Will persisted.

"Jazz was deactivated before that point."

"What if he wasn't? What if there was a little of him left alive? What if...?"

"I'm sorry, Will, but the explanation still makes no sense. It is true that Prowl and Jazz were bound spark to spark, but they were separated by the distance of galaxies when Jazz fell. He did not even sense Jazz's death until he came closer - there was certainly nothing transferred between the two of them."

"But Bumblebee said..."

"Bumblebee is young." Prime sighed. "There are certainly stories of memories and experiences and even sparks being transferred between bondmates in times of extreme need, but only where there was physical contact. Even had he been on Earth at the time, if he had not been touching Jazz there would still be nothing. No. The answer must be something different, we simply have not yet identified what that is."

"Well we're running out of time." Will warned him. "The doctors are giving Sam everything they can, but he's still falling apart and the rest of us are starting to get beyond our limits too. My crew never even touched the thing, but we're still being dosed on morphine to just keep us on our feet."

"I know. We are doing what we can."

~Prime?~

~Go ahead, Ratchet.~

~Prowl's getting worse. I may have to put him into stasis until we can resolve this.~

~If we put him in stasis he won't be able to tell us of any changes.~

~I know.~

~Very well. Do what is necessary. I am on my way.~

* * *

 _The Hub_

"...unbalanced... must... must balance... must... unbalanced..."

Jazz wished he could undo the restraints and simply hold his lover, but was not foolish enough to attempt it. Prowl would have relaxed in his arms; Paximus was a different story altogether. Their bond was not negated by this change - only death could break it - but it had been severely muted under the power of the Matrix, and the trust that had long been implicit between them was now tenuous.

These latest distressed mutterings had apparently started while he was absent and he had barely managed to shrug off the warming blankets and disconnect from the charging station when several of the Prime's advisors had burst in and demanded he return urgently. That had quietened Mirage's protests and he had let them guide him back to the Hub.

He was not sure what they thought he would do, or even _could_ do, but he was grateful they accepted that he had a place at Prime's side that they could not replicate, even though he was not of the high caste. If there was a silver lining to this nightmare, it was the crisis had forestalled anyone insisting that Jazz was not suitable as a consort.

"Pax?" he called softly, caressing the contorted face and trying to smooth out the lines of pain. "What's not balanced? What's wrong?"

With every touch, he felt the Matrix draining away the energy he had just taken in. He had little to give this time but he gave willingly what he had: he would never deny his lover his touch, particularly not now.

"...must... must balance..."

Paximus shuddered, his optics focusing abruptly.

"Jazz... h-help me..."

"How? Tell me how."

"This one... he's hurting... he's lost his... his balance... Have to find... to find a balance... _please_..."

Acting purely on instinct, Jazz clutched his hand tightly and pressed it against his own newly opened chestplates.

//Take what you need.// he offered without reservation, then gasped as he felt a presence he had thought he had completely lost.

The mind that touched his was not Paximus, it was _Prowl_ , and his lover was distressed at the apathetic fatalism he found in Jazz's mind.

//I'm hurting you.// Prowl fretted. //This is not supposed to happen.//

Jazz shivered, clinging desperately to that familiar mental touch.

//This is important. You won't hurt me. I trust you.//

The bond flooded with love and gratitude and regret, then the draining began in earnest.


	4. Final calling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: A bit of corpse squickiness in the first section

_Elsewhere, third calling - G1 (post-TFTM)_

"This stops now." Rodimus snarled, striding down the corridor and rubbing at his chestplates to dispel the ache there. "I want him out of that room. I don't care anymore if he goes back to work or just leaves altogether, but he's _not_ going to keep using up resources we need for this army when he's not contributing!"

The two green mechs flanking him exchanged a glance.

"Lad, just because you're uncomfortable right now doesn't mean you should take it out on..."

"Uncomfortable? You have no idea! It feels like the Matrix is trying to explode through my chest like in that old horror movie Spike and Carly made us watch. _Why_ didn't Optimus tell anyone about this? Why didn't Ratchet leave any notes? Or is it something new? Is it because he meant to give the Matrix to Magnus and not me?"

"The Matrix chose you." Springer told him confidently. "Magnus understands that. And Optimus died very suddenly - maybe he did record something about this but never had the time to tell us where to find it."

That only reminded him of his anger.

"But if he told _anyone_ it would have been his officers, wouldn't it? Elita doesn't know, but she hardly worked with him. And Prowl and Ratchet and Ironhide are dead. There's only Jazz left."

"He's..." Kup began tiredly, then stopped as Rodimus swung round to loom over him.

"If you're going to finish that sentence with 'unstable' then think again." he warned. "I swear, if one more mech tells me that I'm going to scream."

"It's the truth." Kup told him seriously. "He was bonded, and when his bondmate died..."

"Then _why_ isn't he dead?" Rodimus dismissed the issue. "Either he was lying about being bonded or it's not as serious as the legends say. Whatever, I've had enough of his lazing about when everyone else is so concerned about him. There's still a war on out here and we've got no time to look after slackers who don't even turn up to their shifts and I want him _out of that room_!"

He covered the remaining distance in a few strides, but at the last moment Kup slipped in between him and the door.

"Please, lad. Tread softly. Just because you don't understand his pain doesn't mean..."

Rodimus' engine revved loudly and he shoved Kup out of the way then punched at the closed door. It buckled but did not break. He kicked it once, twice, then punched it again.

The pain in his chest was an irritation he could do nothing about, but this he could fix and he was going to. This insubordination had gone on for long enough. One final punch sent the door flying backwards to clatter noisily against the back of the room. Somewhat disappointingly, it did not take Jazz with it. Instead, the mech remained curled up on his berth, clinging to someone else.

Rodimus rebooted his optics. Someone else? But who? It looked a little like Bluestreak, but Blue was on patrol.

His jaw dropped in shock as he realised the truth.

"That... that's..." he stammered.

"Oh Primus." Springer whispered. "That's just sick."

"Springer, lad, have the corridor sealed off." Kup suggested quietly. "Best not too many see this, eh?"

"What? Oh. Yeah."

Springer retreated, and his movement broke Rodimus' paralysis.

"That's _Prowl_!"

"Yeah, I reckon it is. Reminds me of a time..."

"But Prowl's _gone_! We sent him away with the others!"

Kup stopped trying to justify it and simply slipped ahead to lean over Jazz.

"He's saying something. Something about... balance?"

"I don't care if he's praying to Primus in the High lingua - get him _away from there_! It's disgusting. Ew, look, the place is covered in metal filings. He's rotting away and Jazz is holding him like he hasn't even noticed!"

Kup grimaced but pried Jazz's rigid fingers free from Prowl's dusty corpse. Plating crumbled under the pressure but Prowl could no longer feel it and Jazz did not react to it. After a few moments he had freed him and hauled him off the berth. Still Jazz seemed unaware, frozen in position and mumbling as though his processor had stalled.

"Have him cleaned off then have that shell and anything in here it touched melted down."

Kup frowned.

"Lad, that's..."

The pain was getting unbearable and Rodimus clutched at the doorway for support.

"Just... just do it..."

"...finding the balance..." Jazz whispered. "It's done. The balance is restored."

* * *

 _The Hub_

"It's done." Paximus declared in the strongest tones he had managed for many orns, leaning comfortably back against the berth as Jazz slumped to his knees. "The balance is restored."

"But what does that mean?" one of his advisors asked.

"It means the immediate danger is past. I must still call for one more, and then the circle will be complete."

"The circle?"

"Yes. I carry the Matrix here; the inexperienced one brings knowledge of the Allspark power; the injured one brings knowledge of the cube and its loss. Now I need the stable one to guide the Matrix to what it was before."

"What does this mean?"

Paximus smiled faintly, staring past them as though seeing something they could not. Perhaps he even was.

"Some lives are ruled by chance, others by fate. Sometimes it is destiny. Destiny is a cruel master who can give and take away and does so mercilessly in realm after realm, world after world, reality after reality. And so it is here. It was not my fate to bear the Matrix, nor my destiny, that was chance. But how I bear it, and how I surmount this challenge, that is to a power all of my own."

He faltered, glancing down.

"If my consort falls, I will fail in this. Please. I can hold back the energies for a time so it is now safe for you to approach. Ratchet - come collect him. Repair him. Refuel him. There is a little time yet. Then I will need him. Him and no-one else: this chamber will be cleared. I can vouch for the safety of no other who chooses to enter at that point."

* * *

 _Elsewhere, final calling - G1-AU_

"Ratchet?" Jazz called as the repair bay doors opened. "Some help here?"

"I'm busy right now." Ratchet informed him, not turning, still focused on his first patient of the afternoon. "Although quite what I'm supposed to do about this escapes me."

"We can come back later." Prowl said quietly, catching his attention and Optimus' as well.

"Like pit we will." Jazz growled and Ratchet now turned to see he was helping Prowl limp towards a berth. "Sit down."

"What's wrong?" Optimus asked.

"It's hardly anything at all..." Prowl began, then stumbled a little for no apparent reason.

"He's in pain." Jazz said tightly. "As bad as it was after we got him back from Shockwave, but it comes in waves almost exactly three breems apart."

Ratchet was startled. That matched almost exactly what Optimus had described, only he claimed that it was an energy pulse emanating from the Matrix. Ratchet had asked why he had come to him when it was not a medical problem and Prime had begun to make some nonsense response about it feeling right to do so when they had been interrupted.

"It's not that bad." Prowl chided his mate tiredly, doorwings drooping. "Perhaps if I just rest it will resolve itself."

"It's bad enough that it put _me_ on my knees out on the shooting range while you were still in your office." Jazz pointed out, now trying to press his partner into a prone position. "Bad enough that Mirage nearly called in a Decepticon attack because they didn't know why I'd collapsed."

"But only for a moment." Prowl reminded him with a gentle touch to his arm. "And probably just because I w... b-because... I...I...I..."

His fingers clenched on Jazz's arm and his optics cut out, his body going rigid.

"Ratchet!" Jazz yelled, his own denta gritted.

Ratchet began to convert his left hand into a data-tool to force a stasis lock, but before he could even take a step, Optimus groaned behind him and dropped to his knees.

Swearing, he kept moving towards Prowl. Problems with the Matrix were nothing he could help with. Nor could he do much about spark pain, for that matter, but at least he could do _something_. His normal diagnostic feeds flashed up warnings about the stresses that were currently acting on Prowl's systems and they did not make for good reading.

Just what in the name of Primus was going on here?

* * *

 _The Hub_

Jazz walked across the now empty space between the door and the berth, hearing the locks engage behind him. Paximus was reclining in a near-upright position, still bound firmly to the surface but no longer incoherent.

"Sir." he bowed as he got within a few steps. "You asked for me."

"I owe you a great deal, Jazz. What you did could have ended your life."

"It was what you needed."

"What I needed? Or what your partner needed?"

"I couldn't jus' let'im die!" Jazz blurted desperately, his old accent slipping through.

"Indeed." Paximus nodded serenely. "And you were successful in your endeavour. And now I must ask you for even more."

Jazz shivered but opened his chest plates.

"Of course..."

"No. Not in that way. I need you to stay with me while I attempt to disperse the overflow of energy through the three I have summoned. And if I fail, I need you to take on the Matrix."

Jazz recoiled instinctively.

"No!"

"Jazz, someone must carry this burden."

"Let Magnus do it!"

"Magnus was chosen by the High Council but not by the Matrix, not by me. It will reject him."

"I'm not supposed to outlive Prowl."

"And yet you already do."

"No, he's still there. He's just hidden under you."

"I am him. And yet I am not. But I am sure that you can do this."

"I don't... Please. I don't want to. Please don't ask me to stay behind without him..."

"It must be you. You have the strength to do this. And once you do, you will understand."

"I don't wanna understand. I want..."

He cut himself off sharply, but Paximus looked at him sympathetically.

"You want your bondmate back as he was. Such a thing is not possible. I am him, he is me. And I need to know that you will do this."

Jazz nodded tightly.

"I will do as Prime requests."

"Good. Then we can begin. And may Primus grant that I need not hold you to that promise."


	5. The explanation

_Limbo_

There was a place of darkness; featureless, soundless, empty. Then there was a light.

Prowl struggled to focus on it, but it remained indistinct. The pain had gone now, but there was a sense of waiting. Strangely, although he had no explanation for why he was suddenly somewhere other than where he should be, he was not alarmed. And then the light solidified and appeared as a spotlight looking down on an unfamiliar mech.

The mech was very tall, very powerful, painted in tints of ivory and ebony and gold with highlights of azure. He was bound to a medical berth of some sort, looking almost like a torture victim, yet somehow it was clear that he was there of his own volition.

And then someone touched him - _Jazz?_ \- and he stumbled and fell and was aware of others around him.

* * *

 _Limbo - TF:A_

Jazz's touch on his arm was jarring but also welcome because it brought him out of the trance he had fallen into. It had been a little like the peace he felt when he was meditating, but under someone else's control. His sensors registered that the rest of his team was with him, but he kept his gaze on the mech under the spotlight.

"He's the one."

"What's that, Prowlie?" Jazz asked, helping him back to his feet.

"He brought us here."

"Who?" Bumblebee asked, looking about blankly.

"You mean that big weird guy over there?" Sari asked.

" _Who_?" Ratchet demanded.

"You mean you can't see him?"

"You mean you _can_?" Jazz asked, optics adjusting and readjusting noisily. "I can see something but I can't quite focus on it. Who is it?"

"Who is who?" Optimus demanded. "I see nothing and no-one."

"Same here." Bulkhead agreed. "Are you sure you see something, Sari?"

"Of course, he's right there!" she pointed, struggling to pull free of Bulkhead's grip.

"By the Allspark." Ratchet whispered, looking in a completely different direction.

"What?" Bumblebee asked, then took a quick step backwards. "Whoa, where did _they_ come from?"

Prowl glanced across and saw some other mechs, three small groups of them each a short distance apart and talking amongst themselves although their voices did not carry. It did not matter. What mattered was the one that had called them here.

* * *

 _Limbo - 2007 movie  
_

The unmistakeable sense of Jazz's proximity made him fall to his knees. Jazz was here? He clung to the hand that had touched him but then realised that it was Ratchet's.

"He's here!"

"Where are we?" Optimus asked, looking around at the blankness.

"The well of allsparks?" Ratchet suggested sarcastically.

"Yes." Prowl whispered. "Yes. If we're dead, that's why I can feel him. He's here, waiting for me."

"Prowl," Optimus said slowly, "I don't believe that we are dead. Perhaps..."

//Jazz!// he cried out through the long-silenced bond connection. //Jazz, where are you?//

"Look, there are others." Ratchet pointed out.

"I recognise none of them." Optimus considered. "Although the red and blue one there is very similar to the one over there."

"And the one with the flame pattern obviously follows your own tastes." Ratchet suggested.

Prowl raised his head, searching for the one he could feel. He could not see him. He saw the mech in the centre, under the spotlight, but was not interested because it was not who he wanted so desperately to see.

His gaze was drawn repeatedly to the group to his right - three totally unfamiliar mechs. One tall and bulky and painted in oranges and yellows; a shorter, stockier green mech talking earnestly but soundlessly; a black and white mech with a visor sprawled on the floor.

A visor, just like his Jazz. Was that what kept drawing his gaze? Yet several of the others in other groups also had visors and he barely glanced at them. There was something about this one. Pushing himself to his pedes, he stumbled slowly towards the black and white mech, needing an answer. Needing to find Jazz. Nothing else mattered.

* * *

 _Limbo - G1_

Jazz came aware with a shock. Prowl was here. _Prowl_ was here. Not the shell he had been clinging to all this time, not the faint trace of memory, he was _here_. Behind him he could hear Kup and Rodimus arguing about some mech that one could see and the other could not but he did not care.

Casting about, he immediately spotted the familiar black and white form he had missed so desperately for so long. But that mech was being held in the arms of another, his own double, and was not even looking in his direction.

Despairing, he slumped back to the floor. What was this new torture? Was this some kind of memory glitch, bringing him back to a happier moment when Prowl had been with him? He did not want to see. He did not want to know. And why was it tugging at him like this, pulling at his spark as though Prowl were really here? It was cruel.

Perhaps this time he would have the courage to pull the trigger on his own spark? He had to end this pain somehow. Now would be the best time anyway, since Kup and Rodimus would no doubt take Prowl's shell from him. They would not understand. They never had.

A strange whistling phrase made him look up to see a mech standing very close. The mech's appearance was as unfamiliar as his voice, and yet there was something there. Some hint of familiarity. He reached out an unsteady hand. A wickedly sharp clawed one did the same. And in the instant they made contact he knew.

//Prowl!//

//Jazz!//

//You look so different!// they both chimed, then responded in confusion. //I've always looked like this.//

There was a flood of experiences and both reeled at the exchange. There were no shared memories here. Entire lifetimes flowed between them, until they simultaneously hit on abrupt pain. Jazz was torn in half by Megatron on Earth while half a galaxy away Prowl screamed; Prowl was shot down by Starscream on a shuttle while half a galaxy away Jazz collapsed in agony. The transfer dimmed and they stared at each other in shock.

//You are not him, and yet... yet... you are the other half of my soul.//

Their hands dropped away, and the rest of the world faded back in, and then Jazz was roughly jerked backwards.

"What are you doing?" Rodimus hissed at him. "We don't know who these people are. They could be enemies!"

Behind Prowl, the other two mechs were talking to him in an unfamiliar dialect, their body language suggesting they were thinking much the same. Jazz did not hesitate. He slipped out from under Rodimus' hand and spun around.

"I can't stay here anymore." he said simply.

"What?" Rodimus asked blankly.

"I belong wit'Prowl."

"Prowl's dead, lad." Kup said gently.

For the first time, those words did not crush him. He laughed.

"Yeah. But I'm dead too! Maybe that's the only reason left t'carry on."

They looked at him in confusion, but he turned away and walked over to the tall, dangerous-looking chrome mech with the spiky protusions. Prowl was the shortest of the three, though not by much, and was as tall as Rodimus. The three strange mechs looked down at him.

//Can I stay with you?// he asked through the bond, making sure the permanence of the request was understood.

Prowl cocked his head to the side, then wrapped an arm possessively around his shoulder.

//I would have it no other way.//

* * *

 _Limbo - G1-AU_

Prowl jumped at Jazz's touch, then slumped backwards into his lover's secure embrace.

"I gotcha, babe. Easy. Hey, the pain's gone!"

Prowl nodded, but his gaze was still fixed on the mech ahead of him.

"Whatcha lookin' at?"

"You can't see him?" Prowl asked curiously, turning his head then pausing as he saw others further away.

Jazz moved with him and Prowl could feel him shift a little in his confusion.

"What in the name o'Primus an' Primacron...?"

"Who are they?" Ratchet demanded. "All duplicates of us? Some kind of clones? Wait - isn't that Kup?"

"He brought us all here, didn't he?" Optimus asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.

"Who?" Jazz asked.

Prowl gently disengaged from his partner's possessive hold and stepped forward.

"Why?" he asked simply.

And the mech in the middle stirred.

* * *

 _Limbo - the Hub_

"I have summoned you here for a purpose. None of you are the keepers of the Allspark or the Matrix in your worlds, but you are my connection to those keepers. I have need of their assistance, and thus of yours."

The thin black version of himself glanced at the tiny organic creature nearby; the silver one at the tall one who was holding a tiny metal fragment; the ivory and black one simply nodding slowly in comprehension.

"In most realities, there is only one source - either that of the Matrix, or of the Allspark. That is as it should be. In our world, long ago, one of the acolytes craved power not granted him and stole the Allspark from a different dimension to give him power to rival the Prime. The battles waged here were devastating, and many lives were lost but in the end the artifact was retrieved.

"It was to be sent away, back to whence it came, but my predecessor feared that such a move would only delay another uprising; that it would only be a matter of time until someone else attempted such a retrieval. And so, a plan was devised to merge the power of that Allspark with the power of the Prime's Matrix, so that if any such plot were to be repeated the Prime could easily avert any such coup."

"It failed." the ivory one presumed, drawing the attention of others who could hear his but not Paximus' words. "Such power could never be contained."

"Indeed." Paximus nodded. "The power is too much. My predecessor's attempts to control all of that power were as much an affront to Primus as the original theft of the Allspark, and the attempt destroyed him. I have..."

He faltered momentarily, but then felt Jazz's hand on his arm and felt the part of him that was Prowl be strengthened by that touch and rallied.

"I have done what I can to control it in my own way, but it will not be tamed. It is destroying my reality, weakening the barriers between dimensions, and if nothing is done it will soon affect many others. So I have come to you."

"Why us?" the black one asked.

"Because you are us." the silver one answered. "You are me, just as these two are."

"What?" the black one blurted, startled, and even the ivory one looked briefly alarmed.

"Yes." Paximus nodded. "I was you. One of you, all of you, none of you. It was an aberration that I was compelled to accept the Matrix - the only reality in which this has happened, so far as I have been able to identify."

"What _is_ this Matrix you speak of?" the black one demanded.

"It does not matter to you or the realm you inhabit." Paximus said calmly. "Understand only that it was both an honour and a duty, and I do what I must to bear it in the tradition of my predecessors."

"Why us?" the ivory one echoed the black one's earlier question, then elaborated. "Why us, of all the variants you could have summoned?"

"Because you are the ones who can help." Paximus replied, aware that the answer was slightly trite, then elaborated.

"One of you comes from a place where the Allspark's power is vibrant and accessible and is channelled in ways beyond what would have been dreamed here - I require that knowledge; one of you comes from a place where the Matrix is ascendant and is stable and unsullied - I need that guide since I have never known the Matrix's power without this taint; one of you comes from a place where the gift of the Allspark has been all but lost, and where it is needed so very badly - your world will be the recipient of the excess energy."

"Then why are there four groups?" the black one asked, gesturing.

"Because Jazz in my reality is dead." the silver one said quietly, pulling the out-of-place black and white mech slightly closer.

"And why's _that_ important?" the black one continued, showing youthful frustration that the other two did not have.

"That would appear to be self-evident." the ivory one considered, raising one hand to gently caress his Jazz's helm. "Later." he murmured softly, then raised his voice again. "If we are to act as conduits for this, you require us to be stable."

"Indeed."

"What do we do?" the silver one asked.

"You will need to be in physical contact with the one who bears the responsibility of the Matrix or the Allspark in your realm; I believe you will know who I mean. I will be able to draw what I need from you without issue, but if you would drop your firewalls and shields it would assist the process. This will be draining, and may even hurt - you will want to warn your companions, particularly your medics if they are with you. And..."

" _If_ they're with us? You can't see them?" the black one blurted.

"I see you, and through my consort I see Jazz but the other shapes around you are indistinct. I can grant you a breem to talk this through, then we must begin - time is running short."

They each turned away, and Paximus leaned back on the berth a little. He was not exaggerating when he said he was short of time. The pressure was becoming unbearable; even with Jazz's proximity to ground him he felt the madness trying to steal over him again. But he must be lucid for this, and he must allow them some time to absorb the import of what he was requesting.

"Will they help?" Jazz asked him, having been only able to hear his side of the conversation.

The only way to be sure was to wait, so he said nothing and prayed that this would work as he hoped.


	6. The task

_Limbo - TF:A_

While the large mech had spoken, Prowl had been almost unaware of the others around him. There had only been the speaker, and the spiky silver one, and the blocky ivory and black one with the flared doorwings. Now, though, he could once again hear the others clamouring for answers and his attention and he realised that Ratchet had turned him around and was scanning him.

"They're me." he mumbled, still shocked.

They looked so different. How could they be him? How could it happen?

"Prowl, what is going on?" Optimus demanded.

He shook off his shock and pulled away from Ratchet.

"It's... complicated." he began. "Could any of you hear him?"

"We could only hear what you said." Bulkhead offered.

"Two of those others were in the same kind of trance you were," Jazz mused, glancing across to them, "but we couldn't hear what they were sayin'."

"And none of us 'cept Sari can see this guy you say's talking to you, only she can't hear him either."

"Oh. No, that makes sense. He says he needs us as a conduit."

"A conduit?" Optimus echoed.

"Us?" Ratchet spoke over him. "Why us?"

Prowl shook his head.

"Not you. The three of us, who..."

He hesitated. What had been said barely made sense. Other realities, other dimensions? Other versions of the same spark?

"...who he can connect with." he finished carefully. "Myself, and those two. But we're not the ones he wants to be in contact with. He needs contact with Sari's key."

"My key?" Sari asked, holding it possessively. "Why? He can't have it, it's mine!"

"He doesn't want to have it, just to learn from it. This... I don't understand what he means. The explanation didn't make sense to me, although the other two seemed to know. What matters is that he wants me to hold you, Sari, so he can get the information he needs."

"Will it hurt?" she asked warily.

"He did not say, but I don't believe so. He said it would drain _me_ , but not hurt you." He glanced at Ratchet. "He did say to make sure you were close by and monitoring."

"I'm going to want a full explanation of this later." Optimus warned.

"As full as I can give." Prowl agreed.

"Well." Jazz murmured. "Life 'round you bots is never boring, I'll give ya that."

* * *

 _Limbo - 2007 movie_

Prowl shared the entire exchange by databurst and let Ratchet and Optimus consider it, then turned to the smaller mech under his arm who had not accepted the data packet. He had already noticed that this Jazz and the mechs he who accompanied him spoke a language he was unfamiliar with and that they did not seem to comprehend his own.

It would become a problem if it proved that the only method of communication would be the bond, particularly if Jazz could not accept data dumps.

//I get that you're trying to send me something, but it just comes through garbled.// Jazz offered.

//We seem to have incompatibilities in our data encoding. This will be awkward.//

//Yeah. I don't speak your language and you don't speak mine. Though I'd be willing to learn.//

//And I would be willing to teach, but it would be a laborious process.//

//Maybe we already have a common language we can share. We've been to hundreds of worlds. There must be _one_ that we've got in common.//

They stared at each other as they realised the obvious answer at the same moment, then Jazz began to laugh. That drew Optimus and Ratchet's attention.

"English!" Jazz chuckled. "O'course. We're both on Earth."

"You speak English?" Optimus asked curiously.

"Sure do. Been speakin' it as the language o'choice for th'best part o'sixty Earth years, nearly three quarters of a vorn. Seems like it gives us a common language t'communicate in, eh?"

"Indeed." Optimus nodded, then looked back at Prowl. "Do you believe what you have been told?"

"It does seem genuine." Prowl nodded. "The very fact that I can connect with this Jazz who looks nothing like my partner and has none of his experiences suggests strongly to me that everything else we have been told is valid."

"What've we been told?" Jazz frowned.

"He'll have to fill you in later." Ratchet told him. "We're running out of time, and there's no time to go through it verbally. You and I just get to watch. You mind if I run some scans on you while we do?"

Jazz shook his head.

"No problem, go right ahead."

Prowl sent him a pulse of reassurance, then stepped forward with Optimus. They were ready.

* * *

 _Limbo - G1_

Prowl turned and immediately realised that that group around him had grown. Kup and the tall orange mech had joined them and were talking earnestly to Optimus and Ratchet. Jazz hugged him closer for a moment.

//Seems that where they're from, you an' Ratch' an' the boss all died a few years back. Rodimus is the new Prime.//

//Hot Rod?//

//Yeah. Prowler, why'd you get upset like that? I couldn't follow what you were thinkin'.//

Prowl nodded towards his silver counterpart.

//You say where Rodimus is from, Prowl was lost. Where _he_ is from, Jazz was lost. If nothing else, this has brought those two broken souls together.//

He felt Jazz shiver.

//I won't live wit'out ya, Sparkles.//

//I would not ask you to try.// Prowl reminded him. //Now let me go - we're running out of time and I need to speak to Optimus. And perhaps to this Rodimus as well.//

* * *

 _Limbo_

Four minds met, and were one. Not as in a bond, but in a sharing that was unfamiliar to all but the one who guided it. The guide was gentle but firm, taking what was needed from two and using the third as a channel to push the energy back through.

All of the conduits wailed under the pressure of that power, but the two on the sides held strong. The one in the middle fell to his knees but endured. The mech standing with him was holding a shard of twisted metal which was now growing and forming a cube shape.

For a moment it seemed as large as the entire infinite space around them, then was small enough to settle in his palm.

Then the connection ended and all four slumped.

* * *

 _Limbo - the Hub_

The light faded and the building gave a particularly worrying shudder. On the berth, Paximus slumped weakly, exhausted.

"Pax!"

"H-help me, Jazz. I must... stay online. Must... still send them... back..."

"But if it's done, does it matter? You're killing yourself!"

"Just... little longer..."

Worried, Jazz nevertheless stopped himself from making any further arguments and simply gave what was needed.


	7. Home

_New Detroit, Earth - TF:A_

Prowl flinched away from the touch that seemed to set off all his sensors, but hands held him down and after a moment he heard a familiar gruff voice amongst the babble.

"He's drained down to minimal levels, but he's not hurt."

"A good thing I caught Sari, or she could've been crushed!"

"Prowl wouldn't've crushed me."

"Are _you_ okay, Sari?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. It felt weird, but it didn't hurt. And he thanked me."

"Who did?"

"I dunno his name. The big guy."

"Well I'm just glad we're back where we belong. That was far too weird."

Prowl frowned. _Back where we belong?_ Making an effort to focus his optics, he first saw two white blurs that resolved themselves into Ratchet and Jazz, and then beyond them he saw the familiar ceiling of their base.

" _Don't_ try to move." Ratchet warned. "You'll drop into stasis if you don't get some energy in you soon. Jazz, keep him still while I get some supplies. The rest of you back off and give him some space!"

"Hey there, beautiful." Jazz purred at him. "How're ya feeling?"

Prowl twitched.

"I'd prefer you did not act so familiarly." he said stiffly.

Jazz cocked his head to the side.

"Seems t'me t'be the perfect time t'bring all this out inta the open. Y'know what I saw in this? I saw three other versions o'you. An' what was the one thing they had in common?"

"I'm sure you're ready to tell me."

"Me." Jazz said firmly. "Th'black an' white one..."

"Ivory."

"Whatever. He was never more'n a step from his Jazz, an' if they weren't lovers then I'm an organic, but none o'the mechs around'em were surprised or anythin' - it was just normal to'em.

"An' the silver one - didja see how he went straight to that other mech? Boy, the mechs round'em weren't pleased, but the two of'em didn't even notice. An' then he never even let the littler one outta his reach. An' then there was that other one you could see but I couldn't. But did you see there was someone behind him? I'd be willin' t'bet that mech's name sounded somethin' like 'Jazz'."

Prowl stared at him in shock, but he was not quite finished.

"An' then there's you an' me. We been dancin' around each other since we met, since we first saw each other. But maybe it's time we just stopped worryin' bout what other bots might think an' just get on wit'it, eh? I love ya, Prowlie. An' I don' care what anybot else thinks. Nothin's gonna change that. No-one, no way, no how."

* * *

 _Mt. St. Hilary, Earth - G1-AU_

Prowl felt himself slipping offline but was unconcerned. He was just drained, not hurt, and he had a dismayingly comprehensive range of experience in being energy deficient. Shockwave's 'hospitality' had seen to that.

Perhaps he should not have attempted to be a channel for both Optimus and Rodimus. Rodimus had only been there because he had been with that other Jazz and was perhaps not needed for this. But it had felt right to include him.

"...least we're already in the right place..."

The voices faded in and out as he drifted on the edge of stasis lock.

Jazz was with him, holding his hand, and that was all the comfort he needed. Everything would be fine if he could just rest. When he recovered he would debrief to the others and pick apart what had happened, but he knew that the mech who had summoned them had had benign intentions. There had never been any danger.

"...Decepticon plot!"

"...out of my repair bay, Red, before I..."

Decepticons? He tried to rouse a little, worried that some other crisis was hitting them.

//Shh.// Jazz hushed him. //It's just Red bein' Red. Rest.//

Soothed, he did.

* * *

 _Limbo - G1_

The two groups at either side had vanished, leaving only these dangerous-looking spiky ones and his own.

"I don't wanna go back." Jazz whispered in his own language, then turned towards the smudge that Prowl had told him was the mech in control here. "Please! Please, don't send me back. Not to where I was. It hurt too much. Lemme stay with Prowl."

"Prowl's dead, Jazz." Kup sighed, apology ringing in his tones.

//What is happening?// Prowl asked him, concern pulsing through the bond.

//I don't wanna leave you.//

The silver mech jerked in alarm then whistled something incomprehensible to his companions. The tall one stepped forward and looked towards Kup and Rodimus.

"Please." he asked in English. "Would you permit your Jazz to come with us? We cannot spare Prowl, our numbers are so low, but I would not choose to separate them again now they have found one another."

"Prowl?" Rodimus echoed. "This is Prowl? He looks nothing like the mech we knew."

"An' I don't look like the one _they_ knew." Jazz argued. "But it _is_ him. Please, Roddy. I can't bear it. Please let me go."

Prowl moved to stand beside him and dipped to Rodimus' level.

"You do not value him as you should." he accused the shocked Prime. "Nor did you value my counterpart. His absence from your team will cost you little, but his presence will cost _him_ dearly. And I too, cannot bear it. If you will not grant his absence, then I will steal him from you."

"Not like you." the shorter, green spiky mech grunted.

"I have not been me since Jazz's death." Prowl reminded him archly. "In this moment, I am more alive than I have been in too long. I would rather perish than return to that agony."

"And how will I explain your disappearance to your friends?" Rodimus asked Jazz. "To Mirage, to Blaster?"

"To Bluestreak. To Goldbug." Kup added. "Just because you stopped talking to them, lad, they didn't just give up on you."

"I know. But they didn't understand. An' they'll get over it. I _need_ this."

"Go, then." Rodimus sighed. "Go, and be happy."

* * *

 _The Hub_

Jazz lay on the berth on his side, staring pensively at the mech beside him.

Paximus was resting calmly for the first time since taking on the burden of the Matrix, charging normally on the berth in the Prime's own chambers. The Matrix was once again at peace and the priests could once again hear its song.

The original uprising had been quelled by the sheer devastation caused by the merging of the two power sources, and now that the crisis was over there was peace. The damage done during the intervening period was terrible, but much of it could be repaired. Life could return to normal.

Well, for everyone except them.

"It ain't that I ain't grateful." he murmured.

"If you hadn'ta taken it, Optimus pro'ly woulda died without a successor quick enough t'save us all. An' I'm proud, so proud o'ya for doin' what Optimus couldn't, what no-one else coulda thought of.

"An' this rank... it was more'n I coulda ever earned m'self. 'Fore I met you I was just a lowly fac'try worker wit' some unsocial habits that shoulda got me locked up vorns ago. I always thought I'd used up all the luck I was ever gonna get by catchin' your attention an' spark. You're built to the rank, but not me, an' no-one questions it now 'cause o'the Matrix.

"But in the end... In the end, haven't I already lost ya? Please, Primus. I never usedta pray, always said that was the job o'the priests, but I... I need him back. I need him."

"You have me, Jazz." Paximus spoke up, startling him.

"Sir. I apologise for waking y..."

He stopped as one hand caressed his face tenderly.

"Not sir. Not here. Never here."

"If I don't practice, I'll slip."

"Not you. You're cleverer than that." He sighed. "I'm not who I was, it's true. But a part of me still is. And I still love you, Jazz. Just as much as ever. The Matrix will be part of me for the rest of my life, and nothing can change that, but now that the crisis is over it will return to dormancy. The direct influence on me and on my behaviour will lessen. Primes have been bonded before, we can make this work. Trust me?"

Jazz took a moment to consider. It was not as though he had any real choice: he could accept this change in their relationship, or he could deny it and live in misery. Still, it helped to know that Paximus understood and was ready to try to make it better.

"Yeah." he agreed finally. "I trust ya."

It would take time to get used to, he mused as he snuggled in closer to the frame that was larger than he was accustomed to, but they had time.

And if nothing else, today's effort had proven to him just how much Primus loved them both as a pair. Five worlds, including their own, and in every one there was a Prowl and a Jazz who loved each other.

He smirked smugly even as the charging subroutines began to take hold. Five worlds, each so similar, each so different, but none quite like his own. Those other Jazzes may have their Prowl, but he had a _Prime_. Maybe this was not so bad after all.

* * *

The end.


End file.
